


tumblr prompts collection

by enby-crowley (probablypadders)



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: M/M, Mostly Canon Compliant, a little angsty in places but nothing major, i'm still just a soft bastard making soft content, some chapters are post-canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-11
Updated: 2019-09-11
Packaged: 2020-10-14 17:17:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20604434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/probablypadders/pseuds/enby-crowley
Summary: as the title suggests, this is just a collection of ficlets I've written for Tumblr prompts





	1. "I'm scared"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this ficlet takes place in Crowley's flat after the Apocanope - no warnings apply!

Aziraphale’s heart threatens to beat right out of his chest as he watches Crowley consider his plan for several long moments, anxiety weighing heavily in the pit of his stomach.

Crowley drags a hand wearily down his face, then nods.

“Yeah, alright. Nothing to lose at this point, might as well try it.”

_Nothing to lose_. Oh, how they both wish that were true.

Taking a step closer to Crowley, Aziraphale twists his own fingers together and swallows hard. It’s high time he started being a bit more honest with himself _and_ Crowley, and his voice cracks traitorously for a moment.

“I’m _scared_, Crowley. Please, promise me you’ll put a stop to it if it hurts— I can’t, I _won’t_ put you in danger again.”

The demon gives a sad sigh but closes the gap between them by another step, reaching out until Aziraphale catches on and takes his hands. Damp blue eyes meet blazing gold and the angel’s next breath catches in his throat with the intensity of Crowley’s gaze.

“I believe in you, angel. If you think this will work then I’m willing to try. I promise I’ll tell you if something is wrong, okay?”

Aziraphale manages a watery smile.

“Thank you, my dear.”

Crowley takes another step forward and releases Aziraphale’s hands to frame his face instead, thumbs sweeping gently under his eyes to catch the tears that threaten to fall. The rest of the world falls away and all Aziraphale knows is Crowley’s cool skin against his face, those beautiful yellow eyes shining with the love they’ve both spent millennia denying. Neither of them say a word but Aziraphale can _feel_ Crowley’s faith in him and he stands up a little straighter.

“Okay,” he says softly. “Shall we?”

At Crowley’s nod he closes his eyes, letting his angelic essence extend from his corporation as Crowley does the same; they meet in the middle, edges just barely brushing before recoiling in anticipation of a pain that doesn’t come.

Emboldened, Aziraphale reaches out further, the warmth of Crowley’s own infernal form flowing to fill in the gaps left behind, and then the angel opens his eyes to see realisation dawning on _his own face_.

He grins wolfishly with his new mouth, stretches whipcord arms over his head, and gives his corporation a once-over that has Crowley rolling his eyes.

“Narcissistic bastard.”

“I don’t know _what_ you mean.”

Another eye roll, then Crowley smirks and summons a small infernal flame to flicker above his fingertips— panic flits across his face, a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it moment that’s chased away by relief when the angelic corporation doesn’t react in the slightest. He passes his other hand above the flame a few times, each one closer than the last, then grits his teeth and lets the fire touch his palm.

No searing pain, no bubbling skin. Nothing.

Satisfied, he dismisses the flame with a wave and exhales shakily.

“Your turn, angel.”


	2. "I can't breathe"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Flames have consumed most of the bookshop when Crowley stumbles inside, screaming for Aziraphale until his throat is raw, but there’s no mistaking the smell of brimstone beneath the choking smoke. He falls to his knees, catches himself on all fours, an inhuman sound of pure anguish clawing its way from his lungs._
> 
> _Aziraphale is gone._

_Flames have consumed most of the bookshop when Crowley stumbles inside, screaming for Aziraphale until his throat is raw, but there’s no mistaking the smell of brimstone beneath the choking smoke. He falls to his knees, catches himself on all fours, an inhuman sound of pure anguish clawing its way from his lungs.**  
**_

_Aziraphale is gone._

Bolting upright with a gasp, Crowley drags his shaking hands over his face, his fingers coming away wet. A light blinks on beside him and a moment later there’s warmth at his back. A steady hand smooths up and down his spine but the contact feels distant and his head is spinning.

_I can’t breathe._

He pushes the words into his angel’s mind as he struggles for another gulp of air. Aziraphale shushes him gently, uses his preternatural strength to pull the demon into his lap, and Crowley slumps into the warmth of his body with a sob.

“This might sting, dear heart, bear with me.”

Crowley couldn’t form a question even if he wanted to. He grits his teeth as a blessed warmth flows from the hand at his back, gradually slowing his racing heart until he can take a deep breath, then another.

“There you are my darling, nice and steady.” Aziraphale whispers. He kisses Crowley’s forehead and resumes rubbing his back; up with each inhale, down with the exhale, encouraging his love to take incrementally slower breaths.

Once he’s settled Aziraphale plucks a handkerchief from the ether and tenderly wipes his face, making Crowley glad for one hysterical moment that he can’t blush. He lets the angel tend to him before burying his face in the crook of his neck with a sigh.

“Sorry, angel.”

“You’ve got nothing to apologise for, Crowley.” Aziraphale is gentle but firm— he won’t have Crowley blaming himself for this. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Just thinking about the nightmare squeezes panic around Crowley’s throat. He shakes his head.

“M’fine.”

He doesn’t need to see his angel’s face to know he’s frowning.

“I really don’t think you are, dear, but I’m not going to force it out of you.”

“Thank you.”

Aziraphale simply hums thoughtfully, pressing another kiss to the side of Crowley’s face before summing a book and showing him the cover. No words are exchanged but in the space of a blink he finds himself tucked back against the pillows with his demon and the well-loved copy of _The Lion, The Witch & The Wardrobe_ still in one hand. He laughs affectionately and kisses his smile into Crowley’s hair, feeling a small answering smile against the side of his neck.

Clearing his throat, Aziraphale rests the book on Crowley’s back so he can open it with one hand and run the other through his demon’s hair as he begins to read aloud.


	3. a breathtaking kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It’s not right, you should go back to being two separate people again.”
> 
> Just like that, reality bent to Adam’s will; Madame Tracey shuddered for a moment and then Aziraphale seemed to step out of her body onto the tarmac, looking alarmed but _whole._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for celesticat aka Chris <3

“It’s not right, you should go back to being two separate people again.”

Just like that, reality bent to Adam’s will; Madame Tracey shuddered for a moment and then Aziraphale seemed to step out of her body onto the tarmac, looking alarmed but _whole_.

Crowley almost collapsed to his knees for the second time since his arrival at the airfield.

Instead he strides forward, tire iron clattering forgotten to the floor. He reaches out for Aziraphale, cupping his face for a moment as if to check he was truly there before crushing their lips together. 

Crowley is hyper-aware of the few seconds it takes for Aziraphale to react and he’s about to pull away to apologise when the angel grabs him by the waist and _kisses back_.

Everything else fades into the background. If this is the only chance they get they’re going to bloody well make it count after six thousand years of orbiting around one another.

The kiss eventually breaks far more gently than it had begun, the pair resting their foreheads together as they both breathe heavily. Crowley puffs out a laugh, feels Aziraphale’s answering smile and opens his eyes to see it for himself; the angel is flushed and more than a little rumpled, his eyes wide and dark, and Crowley doesn’t think he’s seen anything as beautiful in his long, storied existence.

A deep, ominous rumble breaks them out of their reverie, Crowley’s heart plummeting at the unmistakable presence of Satan himself, but Aziraphale’s hand slips into his and he steels himself. They’ll get through this together.


End file.
